


Neutral Ground - sidebars

by skargasm



Series: Ground Series [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Left Hand Peter Hale, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:07:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24176353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skargasm/pseuds/skargasm
Summary: Sometimes, it's not about the plot. Sometimes it's about what a character is thinking in the middle of things...
Relationships: Chris Argent/Derek Hale, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Ground Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733755
Comments: 38
Kudos: 136





	1. Angel and Demon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TummySassAndAss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TummySassAndAss/gifts), [devilscut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilscut/gifts).



He looked fucking sexy and he knew it – it was enough to make Stiles grind his teeth in frustration. He tried to take a surreptitious look but was instantly caught by that pale blue gaze, watching him with obvious lust. He didn’t want to feel this way – didn’t want his heart to quicken, his pulse to pound, his dick to sit up and press against his jeans with need. But that appeared to be the one constant in his relationship with Peter – as soon as he saw him, his entire body seemed to be in a state of arousal. 

It was so goddamned unfair. Why didn’t he feel the same way when he looked at Derek or Chris even? He could objectively see that both of them were attractive – for God’s sake, Derek was hot like burning with his glowing eyes and dark, brooding beauty. When Stiles had been forced to watch Derek being tortured, he had had a front seat to the perfection that was his body: muscles on top of muscles, unblemished skin coated with sweat. That should be enough to make his balls explode. 

And Chris. DILF was a term that had been coined for the man. Piercing blue eyes, salt and pepper hair, that tattoo on his bicep that should make Stiles want to lick him all over. 

But no, he had to have the hots for a man with an inherent strength that made you think of what he could do to your body – what it would feel like to have those strong hands holding you down while he bit at your throat, mauled your body and fucked you into the mattress. Stiles found himself getting hot at just the thought of getting his hands into Peter’s hair, of looking down and watching as that smirking mouth engulfed his dick in hot wetness, sliding up and down, perfect suction to make Stiles writhe with pleasure and need it to end just as much as he longed for it to continue. 

No, he had to want the man that had deserted him – ostensibly, for his good – who seemed to think he was **always** the most intelligent person in the room and was nearly always right; he wanted the man who looked like he could go toe-to-toe in an argument then have make-up sex that would scorch the room.

“Are you okay Stiles? You’re looking a little – _warm_ over there?” The attention of everyone in the room was on in him in an instant and he felt himself flush all over.

“Go die in a fire.” Allison gasped and his Dad gave him a disapproving stare and he realised what he had said. He turned to Peter, intending to apologise for his insensitivity, but Peter was merely giving him an appreciative glance, seeming to admire his tendency to go for the jugular. 

Peter was like the dark and light of Stiles’ soul in a dangerously attractive package – morally ambiguous, slightly corrupt, potentially evil.

Stiles was so fucked.


	2. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is watching Stiles...
> 
> * * *

The boy had no idea how sexy he was. He had been steaming angry when he had first seen Peter – and had proved it with a killer right hook that Peter had definitely felt. Stiles had not been playing around with that punch. 

He was stood talking to the others, studiously ignoring Peter although the sidewards glances gave away the fact that he was looking. The attraction between them was most definitely not one-sided and had not faded with time and distance – as if it ever could.

Derek had been merciless while they had been trying to track down Laura. He had dredged up every single bit of information he could remember about Stiles and tortured Peter with it. Peter now knew that Stiles wasn’t considered _cool_ or attractive at school; that for the longest time, he’d had a crush on Lydia Martin; that he was far too intelligent for a school such as Beacon Hills; that he was loyal, sarcastic, funny and evil. Everything Peter could ever want.

There was one story that Derek had told that had stuck in Peter’s mind and fed his dreams. He felt no shame whatsoever in admitting that he had pleasured himself with the imagery it had provided – leaving Stiles behind had been like leaving a part of himself and he had needed the comfort.

Somehow, Stiles got into a fight with some asshole called Jackson Whittemore and had been shoved fully clothed into the showers. Instead of being humiliated or embarrassed, Stiles had apparently merely stared down the bullies and proceeded to wash himself, and his clothes, as if it was a normal occurrence to be fully dressed in the shower. Finstock had told him to get the hell out and go home, perhaps understanding what had happened, and Stiles had left with his head held high. Derek had also told Peter that Stiles had got his revenge on Whittemore, but that wasn’t the part that Peter concentrated on.

No, his mind fixated on the imagery of **his** Stiles, standing proud and strong – water streaming over his features, his clothes wet and clinging to his body. His imagination had provided the flushed colour of his skin, the muscles of his arms and chest caressed by the warm water, the denim of his trousers clinging to strong legs. 

Legs that Peter wanted wrapped around his waist; arms that he wanted pulling him closer; skin he wanted to kiss, bite, touch, with every fibre of his being. His wolf and he were in complete agreement with each other – just seeing those amber eyes staring at him unguarded for a moment, longing, lust and hopefully love shining in them, had made Peter want to roar out his desire. Stiles was a feast to each of his senses and he wanted to luxuriate in every aspect of him.

Even if Laura hadn’t returned to Beacon Hills, Peter knew he would have been coming back. He needed Stiles and this time he was going to have him.

* * *


	3. Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek is hiding a LOT of thoughts behind his stoic mask...
> 
> * * *

Derek wondered if Stiles realised that the window was open to the porch which meant everyone, human and wolf, could hear the conversation. Peter wouldn’t give a damn – he seemed to not give two shits what _anyone_ thought of his actions. Describing what was happening outside as a conversation was a stretch – Peter was claiming Stiles in the most basic fashion, outlining his intentions and giving Stiles one last chance to reject him. From the sounds of kissing and moaning, Stiles was not rejecting Peter.

The Sheriff was doing his best to pretend that he had gone deaf, reading through whatever Chris had been typing on his laptop whilst they had been discussing Deaton and Morrell. Scott looked embarrassed, his attempts to **not** look at Allison making it clear that he was aroused. 

Derek could sympathise – he was trying very hard not to look at the other person in the room. Chris Argent seemed completely and utterly oblivious to what was happening outside. He showed no external signs of embarrassment or awareness.

Derek knew that this type of thing did happen. In older times, if two wolves were interested in the same person, one of two things would happen. Often-times, the younger wolf or the one lower in the pack would defer to the other, leaving the way clear. But sometimes, if the wolves involved were of the same rank, they would fight for the right to court the desired individual. 

In this instance, with Peter declaring his interest in Stiles so blatantly, that wasn’t the concern. No, Derek just didn’t understand his interest in the other man. And he had no idea whether Chris was even aware of him as a person other than as Peter’s nephew. Derek had found himself more and more fascinated with Chris Argent as Peter opened up about his past – about his involvement with the hunter and his tales of what Chris had got up to. 

Chris had proven himself a relatively fair man, siding with the wolves over his own family when he became aware that Kate had gone too far. He was strong, maintaining the Argent position despite the deaths of both Gerard and Kate, as well as Victoria leaving. He was caring – he looked after Allison with obvious love, whilst fairly maintaining discipline. 

None of that was what drew Derek. He was obsessed with Chris’s arms – that tattoo on his bicep; the flexing muscles that were not from nature but hard work and effort; the strong hands that looked more than capable of holding a willing partner down; the whipcord lean strength of his body. His mouth was incongruously soft in the leanness of his face, and his eyes. Derek saw them in his dreams, watching him as he pleasured himself, that gravelly voice telling him exactly what to do and how to do it. He would close his eyes as he touched himself, pretending that Chris was sat across the room from him, watching his every move, controlling every aspect of his pleasure. He had experienced the most explosive orgasms on imagining what Chris would sound like when he told Derek to come. And yet, to date, he had barely spoken to the man. 

Trying to shake off his inappropriate thoughts and thankful that Peter and Stiles had everyone’s attention, Derek opened his eyes. And found Chris staring right at him, those diamond-bright blue eyes seeming to see directly to the thoughts he was struggling to hide. His lips parted on a gasp, eyes captured by the way Chris looked at his mouth as though he wanted to devour it. He licked his lips, watching as Chris’s eyes dilated and he realised that he wasn’t alone in this attraction – Chris most definitely saw him as more than Peter’s nephew. Derek just needed to decide if he was brave enough to do something about it.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine listening to Donna Summer singing 'Love to Love You' whilst writing this...
> 
> * * *


	4. Slash the Drabble prompt #566 Constant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris had managed to put it out of his mind...
> 
> * * *

He had felt ashamed of himself. He had never experienced anything like it – seeing Derek Hale cuffed to the chain-link fence and feeling such a surge of arousal had shocked him to his very core. 

Forget the fact that he was so much older than the werewolf. He had **never** looked at him when he was younger in such a fashion – the mere idea of it was abhorrent to him. 

He had been in a relationship, of sorts, with his Uncle. Peter and he hadn’t worked out for so many reasons. Strangely enough, the whole werewolf/hunter thing hadn’t figured in it. They were too alike – they liked to be in control, wanted to be the one taking someone apart – they had struggled too much with that for it to ever have worked.

He didn’t want to torture Derek – not the way that Kate had been. But there were so many things he did want to do.

He **did** want to have him at his mercy, wanted to show him how much pleasure could be wrung from his body with the lightest touches.

Wanted to edge him until those beautiful eyes were swimming with tears.

Wanted to kiss him until even his werewolf healing couldn’t prevent his lips from staying red and swollen. 

Wanted that beautiful body laid out before him, his to do with as he wished. 

Wanted to touch every inch of that skin, feel those muscles flexing beneath his hands, **know** that all of that strength was lying beneath him willingly. 

Wanted to lay on top of him and feel the wildness beneath him, know that it belonged to him in the most basic of ways. 

Wanted to trace the lengths of his fingers, feel the claws being released. 

Wanted to stare into those intense eyes as the face transformed from man to beast. 

Wanted to see and feel where the hair changed to fur.

Wanted to hold the soft orbs of his balls in his hands and feel them contract and expand within his grasp.

Wanted to learn the length of his cock, feel it pushing into his throat, gag at the power of those thrusting hips.

Wanted all of that strength and beauty on it’s knees, staring up at him with desire.

He just – wanted. 

He had been relieved when Peter and Derek left Beacon Hills, determined to put the whole shocking idea behind him. He concentrated instead on doing his best to make things up to Stiles; on being the best father he could be to Allison; on hiding Kate’s body where it would never be found; on making the Argent name what it _should_ be rather than what it had been turned into.

And then it all began again. Laura returned. Scott was bitten. The supernatural was revealed. And when he opened the door and saw Derek again for the first time in six months, it all came flooding back. 

And looking into Derek’s eyes, he realised he wasn’t alone in the constant want.

* * *


	5. Trick of the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Deaton arrived at the door, these were Peter's initial thoughts...
> 
> * * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to TummySassandAss for her comment that made me laugh so hard, I thought I'd cracked a rib!
> 
> * * *

Before anyone could react, Peter strode forwards, flicked out his claws and impaled the Druid with a savage thrust. Lifting him high in the air, he watched with satisfaction as blood poured from his open mouth, Deaton's eyes wide with shock as the life ebbed from them.

With a casual gesture, Peter tossed the body to the ground, turning to look at his Pack. 

“What – Peter, what did you DO?!” Scott shrieked and Peter smirked.

“I can only deal with so much stupid at a time and you fill all of that space. Now, where were we?”


	6. Close Quarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever wondered what Chris, Noah and Mel found to talk about whilst confined to such close quarters?
> 
> * * *

“You know, after you got shot, I wondered if I had completely missed my opportunity to spend the night with you.” Noah laughed weakly at Melissa’s comment, peering at her through the darkness. 

“Yeah, well – I’ve always been a little slow on the uptake. But how about, once all of this is over, and Scott isn’t a ravenous monster of the night, and I deal with the mental images of Peter Hale and Stiles desecrating as many places as they can climb onto, you and I go out for a meal? And I don’t mean a diner – I’m talking something a little more upmarket.” He was a little worried about the cough that seemed to be plaguing Mel, but figured in the scheme of things, it wouldn’t have a chance to cause too much damage.

“You are so on. Just let me know and I’ll get the schedule sorted at the hospital. Of course, that’s if I still have a job after skipping out on them for – how long have we been here?”

“Nowhere near as long as it feels.” He shifted uncomfortably in his bonds. Kali and Laura hadn’t made much of an effort to tie him up, relying more on the terrifying aspect of a werewolf ripping his head off than on actual rope. And Kali’s dead body staring up at them from the slightly higher ground near the entrance did little to encourage rebellion. It was disconcerting to be honest – she just looked so damned surprised. Still, he had almost worked his way free – the first thing he needed to do was get them all a drink from the bottles of water their hostess had so kindly provided. And then, he needed to try to see if there was a way out of there that wouldn’t lead to the whole damned thing caving in on them. No big.

“Do I _have_ to listen to the two of you getting cute while I’m trying to get some sleep over here? It’s the full moon tomorrow night and I would really like to be properly rested for whatever is coming our way then.” Noah tried to see Chris clearly but the darkness prevented it.

“Well, we could always talk about you and a particularly surly but hot young werewolf if you prefer,” Noah snarked, pleased that Chris was still able to talk coherently. He had been more than a little concerned about the other man who had been worryingly quiet from the time Noah had been dragged in. Sarcasm was better than silence, especially when considering a potential concussion.

“Ooh, yes – tell me more about how Chris and young Derek have been eye-fucking – it’s so entertaining!”

“Not when you’re watching it!” 

“Jesus, you two! Is there any chance either of you could crawl over here and shove my shoulder back into place? This dislocation is starting to get a little uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, sure – just let me finish flirting with Mel and I’ll be right with you.” For once, he was kinda pleased that Stiles was so intelligent, inquisitive and prone to ignoring authority. Somehow he knew it wouldn’t be the Sheriff’s department that found them and he had zero desire to see just what kind of sacrifice Laura intended to make of them. There was a football game on that weekend that had his name all over it, and maybe he could persuade Peter and Stiles to go out instead of being ‘discreet’ upstairs in Stiles’ bedroom. For just one moment, Noah allowed himself to think about the situation he was in and give a silent prayer that Stiles, Peter and Derek would get there in time. 

He had a date to look forward to after all.

* * *


	7. Maintaining the Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For all of those who feel that Deaton didn't suffer enough, this little sidebar is for you.
> 
> * * *

“I had hoped that it would be me that the Powers allowed to handled you.” Deaton stared around in shock. He was surrounded by darkness and he watched in horror as the twisted, scarred figure of the Darach came towards him. He tried to step back and realised that he couldn’t move. “I was surprised by Laura’s actions – she tricked me into stepping back, you see – but this is so much better, don’t you think?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Oh, I think you do. Now let me see – you stood by and watched as the Hales burned to death. Should we begin with that?”

Flames manifested before his eyes and he tried to convince himself that they weren’t real. But the heat from them was intense as they moved closer and closer, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t move. 

“Did you know there were children in there? Innocents by anyone’s definition. And you let them burn – to maintain a balance that **you** decided? No matter what happens out there, you and I are going to be together for a _very_ long time and you are going to **FEEL** everything you allowed to happen to maintain your balance.”

He screamed.

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted somewhere for the little bits of smut that occur to me during the story that don't quite fit into the plot. Also, my brain can be a dirty, dirty place and I thought I would share - well, some of it, anyway!
> 
> It's also where I've posted little bits of the story that I couldn't squeeze in - I particularly like Peter's thoughts about Deaton!
> 
> * * *


End file.
